Starboard Home
by amythis
Summary: In Story #3 of the "Canoe" series, Gilligan and Mary Ann's homecoming is bittersweet. Includes some Pinger and a bit of Brady crossover, but mostly focused on MAG.
1. Chapter 1

When Gilligan woke up from his nap, he felt like he was still dreaming. He was not in his hammock on the island. He was not even in the canoe. He was in a very comfortable king size bed in a very nice hotel in Honolulu. And Mary Ann was sleeping next to him.

She looked as beautiful as ever, even if she was wearing Eva Grubb's granny style nightgown. It was the only sleepwear she'd packed. Gilligan was wearing an extra pair of Mr. Brady's pajamas. He'd tried to explain that he always slept in his clothes, from white hat to white shoes, but the Bradys didn't understand. They were a very nice family and eager to help.

The hotel manager, Cecil B. Pomeroy, was very nice, too. He was letting Gilligan and Mary Ann stay in the honeymoon suite for free, and all they had to do was mention the name of the hotel the next few times they got interviewed. He was keeping reporters away right now, because Gilligan and Mary Ann had been so tired. They hadn't slept very well during the storm, and of course all that paddling before the storm had taken a lot out of them.

Plus there were the games that Mary Ann had introduced Gilligan to in the canoe, special married people games. The best one was the last one. They only got to play it for a minute last night but it was a lot of fun. He hoped they could play it again now that they were in this comfortable bed.

"Mary Ann," he whispered. He knew she needed her sleep but he hoped she was ready to wake up.

She snuggled up against him. "Mmm, Gilligan, I wasn't dreaming."

He kissed her cheek. "No, this is real."

"We're in Hawaii!"

"Yeah."

"And we're married!"

"Yeah." He started kissing her neck.

"Gilligan!"

"What's wrong?"

"We have a lot to do."

"Yeah." He stroked the chest of Eva Grubb's nightgown.

"Mmm, Gilligan, I appreciate how frisky you are now, but I meant that we need to do things like report to the Coast Guard so our friends can be rescued."

"Oh, right." He let go. "But the Coast Guard knows that everyone's on the island."

"Yes, but they don't know the location or anything."

"Oh, yeah. But can't that wait?"

"Can't that?" she asked, looking down at his crotch.

"Well, yeah." He tried not to be disappointed.

"Oh, Sweetheart," she said, then she gently tugged down Mr. Brady's pajama bottoms several inches and took Gilligan in hand.

"Mmm, thank you, Mary Ann, but I want to be inside you again."

"You will be, but let's wait till tonight."

"OK." He knew he shouldn't complain because this was much nicer than doing it for himself, especially since she let him squeeze her chest through the nightgown. The release came quickly. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." She kissed his cheek. "I'm going to take a shower."

"A shower!" He remembered now that they had indoor plumbing. When they got to the hotel room, he'd collapsed into the soft bed and hadn't thought about the other amenities. It was amazing to think that they could have water inside, without him having to lug it in buckets from a spring or otherwise work hard to provide it.

She smiled. "Would you like to share it with me?"

"Yeah!" Warm water and a naked Mary Ann, it sounded perfect. He quickly stripped off the pajamas.

She shook her head. "What happened to the shy first mate I knew on the island?"

"I don't feel so shy with you now."

"I can see that. Well, I still feel a little shy, so let me get undressed in the bathroom and then you can come in after a couple minutes."

"OK." He could wait more easily now that she'd helped him with his condition.

She got out of bed and went into the restroom, closing the door behind her. He lay in bed awhile, thinking about some of the amazing things that had happened to them in the past half month, all because he'd caught a canoe when he was fishing in the lagoon.

It seemed like more than a couple minutes had gone by, so he got out of bed, put on the pajama bottoms, and knocked on the bathroom door. They hadn't had much privacy in the canoe, especially during the storm, but he wanted to respect her privacy now that he had a chance to. He knocked on the door and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Uh, yes, just a moment." She opened the door for him and he saw that she was wearing a towel and one of her legs was soapy.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

She blushed a little. "I was shaving my legs."

"Oh."

They'd both done their best to shave on board the canoe, although of course that was impossible during the storm. Gilligan rubbed his chin and felt how in the last couple days it had crossed over from stubble to a light beard.

"You look cute with facial hair," she said.

"Thank you."  
"I mean, you're cute without it, too," she added.

"Thanks. Uh, do you want to finish your leg before we shower?"

"Uh, I think I'd better. It would look funny without it."

"Yeah. Uh, I may as well shave while you are."

"OK."

It felt awkward between them, after getting so close on the canoe. But it felt strange to be in a hotel together, even if they were married. They didn't talk at first while they shaved, but his eyes kept drifting to her legs, reflected behind him in the mirror. She really did have great legs.

When he tried to focus on his face again, he realized he needed to buy some shaving cream. It was so strange being back in civilization, all these products that were available to buy. On the island, the Professor came up with recipes for soap and lotion and almost anything they could think of. But now he could walk into a drugstore and—

"Mary Ann, what are we going to do for money?"

She frowned. "I don't know. We didn't think to bring any. We were so worried about everything else, like food."

"Yeah, and we could've just asked Mr. Howell and he would've probably given us a thousand dollar bill as a wedding present."

She smiled a little. "Yes."

"I might have a little money in my savings account from before."

"Unless it's been closed out because you were presumed lost at sea."

He swallowed. "Yeah."

"I can ask my family to wire us some, just to get by until we can work again. Oh, Gilligan, I need to call my mother and Aunt Martha and Uncle George!"

He nodded. "I need to call my family, too."

"They must've heard the news by now. Oh, they must be out of their heads with worry, and with happiness!"

"Let's call them after we shower and get dressed. The Coast Guard can wait."

"OK. I'm done shaving."

"Me, too."

She hesitated and then unwrapped the towel. He stood and stared at her. He hadn't really got a good look at her naked in the canoe, since it had been dark and stormy and the tarp was covering the canoe.

"Gilligan," she mildly scolded and he could see she was blushing.

"I'm sorry, Mary Ann." He felt like he should stop staring but he couldn't. Years ago, when she lost her swimsuit in the lagoon, he'd covered his eyes (as had the Professor) but now that he knew how she looked, he didn't know how to look away. Even though he'd touched her soft curves, it was still amazing to see them.

"It's all right. I understand. But I think I'll feel more comfortable if I get in the shower." So she stepped into the tub and started the water. "Mmm, nice hot water! I've missed this so much."

"Yeah," he murmured, watching her turn her body under the spray.

"Gilligan, are you going to just stand there ogling me or are you going to come in?"

"Um, I'm coming in." He peeled off the pajama bottoms and then Mary Ann stared at him. He blushed a little. "I think my condition is coming back."

She nodded and beckoned him into the shower.


	2. Chapter 2

"I really do need to write that bottle message, Ginger."

She made a moue. For over an hour, he had been her passionate boyfriend Roy, but now he was back to being the logical Professor. Since he had given her that hour of passion, she couldn't really complain. And since he was so logical, she couldn't argue. So she said, "What are you going to tell him?"

He sat up and sighed. "Well, it's difficult because we don't know if he's happy on the Wasabis' island or if he would like to leave. Or he might be happy but he might want to leave and take his wife with him."

"Why not just say that Gilligan and Mary Ann made it to Hawaii and ask if he wants to go with us when we're rescued?"

He nodded. "Yes, keep it simple. Good idea." He kissed her.

"What's that for?"  
"Well, sometimes I over-think things."

"You?" she teased and he kissed her again.

But then he got out of bed and put on his underwear and trousers. She wrapped the blanket around herself as he sat at the table and started writing the note to the Skipper.

The Skipper had been gone about two weeks, leaving soon after Gilligan and Mary Ann. They had gotten one bottle message from him, saying, _"Hey Gang, Hope you're all well. I'm living like a king, with all I can eat. The princesses' contests are almost over and the wedding will be in a couple days. Wish you could be here for it. Let me know when you hear anything from or about Gilligan and Mary Ann. Love, The Skipper."_

When the Professor finished the note, he handed it to her. "What do you think?"

 _"Skipper, The Gilligans are in Hawaii. Care to join them?_ — _Professor."_

She managed not to laugh. "Yes, that should work."

"Would you like to come with me while I send it off?"

"OK, let me get dressed."

He nodded and finished getting dressed himself. They smiled at each other when they were done and she knew he was thinking as she was that they would have to find another opportunity to take off their clothes again. Then it hit her.

"Roy, when do you think we'll be rescued?"

"I don't know. The report just came in this morning. They'll have to send someone, more likely by boat than plane, since this isn't exactly an emergency."

"So a few days?"

"Maybe. Less than a week anyway."

It felt so sudden, after all this time. It would be enough time to pack, but suddenly she felt like she wasn't mentally ready. "Roy, I know this'll sound funny, but I'm going to miss the island."

"There's nothing funny about that. We've spent so many years here, made so many memories. And it's a beautiful island."

"Yes."

"Of course, you need to leave for the good of your career, but I must confess I'm going to miss the chance to do research unfettered by bureaucracy."

"Do you know where you'd like to work?" she said, ignoring the part about her career. She didn't want to point out that the eight years away were eight of her prime years, while he would probably get all sorts of opportunities because of his scientific discoveries on the island.

"Uh, let's talk as we walk towards the lagoon."

"All right."

So he put the note in a bottle and sealed it with wax. Then they left his hut and made their way along the path to the lagoon. Once they were past the clearing where the huts were, he took her hand, to her surprise.

"I've considered going to work for the government, or working for a corporation. But I miss teaching so I hope to find a position in a university."

"Where?"

"Somewhere where I can have a measure of academic freedom."

"No, I mean where in the country."

"Oh, it doesn't matter. I'm adaptable."

"Would you consider UCLA?"

"Why UCLA?"

"It's near Hollywood."

"Oh, uh, yes, it is."

She suddenly felt as if she had been too forward. It was one thing to flirt with a man. That was second nature to her. But to ask him to move to her part of the country felt very bold, almost like a proposal.

Then he squeezed her hand. "I would be happy to work there if they were interested."

"Oh, I'm sure they would be!" she exclaimed. "You're so clever and hard-working."

"Well, thank you, but I have been out of the academic loop for eight years. Yes, I've tried to carry on by myself, but a serious institution like UCLA might frown upon such an unorthodox background."

"Well, maybe you could find work in a less prestigious university."

"Where? At a community college? I'm sure your Hollywood friends would find that very impressive."

She let go of his hand and looked at him as if he'd slapped her. "What's that supposed to mean? Do you think I'm some sort of a snob? Or a spoiled actress who values men only for their success?"

"No, of course not, Ginger. I'm sorry. I'm afraid, well, I've got an inferiority complex about you."

She smiled a little. "You shouldn't. I'm the has-been."

"Oh, Ginger, you're a very talented woman, still with a bright future ahead of you."

She decided to ignore the "still." "Well, thank you. But your future is bright, too, you know."

"I suppose. But it is going to be an adjustment for us, going back. The Howells will probably settle in more easily. They'll likely be back in their luxurious lifestyle a week at most before this island madness is just a memory to them."

She wasn't so sure of that. Yes, the Howells were still the Howells, but she could see little, subtle ways they'd changed over the years. Then she thought about something else he said, "Island madness?"

He smiled a little. "Well, all the crazy things that have happened to us."

"Oh? And what about you and me? Is that another crazy thing?"

"Ginger, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Oh, Roy!" She threw her arms around him and kissed him. His arms wrapped around her and he passionately kissed back.

After awhile they broke apart and he said, "We need to send the message to the Skipper."

"Yes, of course."

They continued to the lagoon, again holding hands. It was a lovely day, with no trace of the recent storm. The lagoon looked calm and peaceful. No, wait, there was a souvenir of the storm, because a bottle had washed ashore.

"Look! Do you think it's from the Skipper?"

"It might be." He handed her the other bottle and picked up the one that was nestling in the wet sand. He took out the cork and murmured something about what sort of palm frond it was from. He unrolled the note, read it, and then shouted, "I must go rescue him!"


	3. Chapter 3

Mary Ann grabbed a towel and stepped out of the shower. She and Gilligan had touched each other's bodies a little, mainly scrubbing backs, since those were hard to reach, but mostly they'd looked. Despite their experiments in the canoe, they were still learning about each other, he especially about her. She wished that they could've been more leisurely, but there was so much that they had to do. After they'd talked to their families and whoever was going to rescue their friends, then there would be time to truly have a honeymoon.

Gilligan stayed in the shower and turned the water to cold. She tried not to laugh at how he screamed and jumped as the blast hit him.

She'd considered playing with him again but she was starting to feel like this could go on indefinitely. Gilligan's libido seemed to be increasing daily. Now that he had discovered the world of physical love, he seemed to want more and more of it. She wanted to explore it more, too, but not just yet.

She went into the bedroom and looked for an outfit to change into. She hadn't packed very many clothes of course. She decided on a nice summer dress, since the Hawaiian climate was close to that of their island. The dress was probably hopelessly out of style, but that couldn't be helped. Once they had some money coming in, she might buy a muumuu.

She set out a red shirt for Gilligan and fresh pairs of socks and underwear. He could get away with wearing his jeans another day or two, until they figured out what to do about laundry. She'd washed their clothes as best she could while in the canoe, but there was only so much she could do with a bar of soap and sea water. Laundry service might be included in their hotel package, or she might have to find a local laundromat. She wondered how many quarters it would take these days. She'd heard on the radio about all the inflation in the past few years, although it still didn't seem real to her. None of this did, not yet.

Gilligan came out of the bathroom wearing a towel and an embarrassed grin, a grin she was very familiar with, although not usually for that reason. "Sorry that keeps happening."  
"Gilligan, I told you, it's normal. We just need to wait for a time when we can make use of it."

"Tonight?"

She blushed a little. "Yes, tonight should be good."

"Oh boy!"  
She laughed. In some ways, he hadn't changed at all.

As he got dressed, she tidied up their room a little. She knew that a maid would probably come in while they were out, but she couldn't help it. She was used to housework and it made her feel better, not leaving the place a mess. She wondered if she should fix up the bathroom, but she decided there wasn't time.

"So what should we do first?" Gilligan asked when he was dressed.

"Well, I think we should call—" She was about to say they should call their families. They could reverse the charges if necessary, since the hotel manager probably wasn't that generous. But the phone rang just then.

Both she and Gilligan looked at it, then he said, "Do you think it's for us?"

"I assume so."  
"But we haven't given this number to anybody. I don't even know what our number is."

She thought it might be a reporter. The hotel manager had promised to give them peace and quiet, but that didn't mean a clever reporter might not have tricked the switchboard.

"Do you want to get it?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I'm kinda shy on the telephone."

She felt funny about answering it herself. It had been so long. But they couldn't let it just keep ringing. She picked up the receiver and said, "Hello?"

"Who is this?" demanded an older but not elderly woman.

"Uh, this is Mary Ann." She almost added "Summers" but that wasn't right anymore. And she was still getting used to having "Gilligan" as a last name. For eight years, she'd thought it was the first name of the young man she was fond of. She didn't know if she could get in the habit of calling him "Willy." Maybe "Will," but neither suited him. And he seemed used to everyone calling him by his last name anyway.

"They told me this was Willy's room."

"Oh, uh, yes, it is. Please hold on a moment." She held out the receiver. "It's for you."

"Who is it?"

"Some woman who calls you Willy."

"Oh." He took the receiver. "Hi, Mom. What? No, that was no lady. That was my wife."

Mary Ann managed not to laugh.

Then Gilligan said, "On the island. Well, technically the lagoon. The Skipper. Yes, my boss. Of course it's legal. The Professor would've said something if it weren't. Because he knows a lot about everything, including the law. Well, if it wasn't, then we'll just have another ceremony."

Was Gilligan's mother questioning the legitimacy of their marriage?

"Mom, let's not argue. I haven't seen you in eight years. Yes, I packed his shirt. As soon as we can. Yes, I have to bring her. Mom, this call must be costing you a fortune. I'll call you back when the rates go down. You, too. Goodbye." He hung up and looked at Mary Ann. "Um, that was my mother."

"Yes, I know."

"Um, she wants me to get another room."

"What's wrong with this one?"

"Well, you're in it."

Mary Ann had heard of difficult mothers-in-law but this was ridiculous. "Why doesn't your mother like me? We've never even met and I only spoke to her for a minute."

"Oh, it's nothing against you exactly. It's just that she doesn't think our marriage is legal and so she doesn't approve of my being in a hotel room with you."

"Why doesn't she think it's legal?"

"She said that captains of ships can't really perform marriages, unless they're also ordained ministers."

"Oh." Mary Ann hoped that Mrs. Gilligan was wrong, especially since she and Gilligan had consummated their marriage, however briefly.

"But we can get married again if you want, once things quiet down."

"Well, thank you." She didn't know what to think anymore.

"Anyway, Mom is glad I'm back in America, even if she is worried about me. And we can go visit them soon."

"I'm not sure if I want to now," she admitted.

"Oh, Mom will love you once she gets to meet you and sees how sweet and old-fashioned you are. Besides, I need to return my brother Maynard's shirt."

She wondered which of the red shirts was Maynard's. But before she could ask, someone knocked on the door.


	4. Chapter 4

"What does it say?"

He hesitated. The Skipper had addressed the note to him and the contents probably weren't meant to be shared with Ginger, or the Howells:

 _"Professor,_

 _I've been using that little phrasebook you whipped up for me but now I'm in a jam I don't have words for. At first, everything was terrific here. The princess who 'won' me has been a lot of fun, if you know what I mean. And the other Wasabis have been great to me, as their new prince._

 _The thing is, well, I've lost a lot of weight, through certain activities. And I think the princess wants to divorce me. Or worse! I'm afraid I might be thrown into a volcano or something._

 _Can you come rescue me? Or at least have a talk with them?_

 _Thanks a bunch,_

 _The Skipper"_

"OK, just sum up what it says if you can't share it."

The Professor looked up. The message might've been meant to be private, but a man's life was possibly at stake. He wordlessly handed over the note.

She read it and laughed.

"Ginger, this is a very serious matter!"

"I think you're jumping to conclusions, both of you. Why do you men always assume the worst of the natives? The Wasabis seemed like a very peaceful tribe."

"Well, even if you're right, there's still cause for concern. And since I'm the only one of us who speaks the Wasabis' language, it's up to me to go to their island."

"But we're about to be rescued!"

"Ginger, the note is undated. Who knows how long it was floating out there? It may already be too late!" He wasn't usually this emotional, but he was very worried about the Skipper.

"All right, then I'm going with you."

"Woman, are you insane?"

"I don't see anything insane about it. I'm very good at creating a diversion."

He smiled a little. "Well, yes, that's true." He sighed. "But you should stay here, where it's safe."

"Why? Because I'm a woman."

"Well, yes. Besides, you know how helpless the Howells are. They wouldn't last a day on their own."

"Oh, I don't know. They might if they had to. And the rescue ship should be here soon."

"Nonetheless, I would feel easier in my mind if you stayed here."

"I don't want you protecting me all the time."

"Ginger, I couldn't stand it if anything bad happened to you."

"But I'm supposed to let you risk your life on your own?"

"I thought you said the Wasabis aren't dangerous."

"Well, I might be wrong. And if they are, they'll be just as dangerous for you as for me. Why not let the Coast Guard deal with them?"

"Because there might not be time for that."

"Roy, I don't want you to go!"

"Ginger, I'll be caref—"

"No, you don't understand. I love you! I don't want to be apart from you!"

"Oh, Ginger! I love you, too!"

They threw their arms around each other and kissed passionately, as if they were being separated forever. He hoped they weren't going to be. He hoped that he could interpret for the Skipper and his in-laws, finding a peaceful solution. But what if he were himself killed? Or what if he were captured and their rescuers never found the Wasabis' island? He might never see Ginger again.

"All these wasted years," he murmured.

"Not wasted," she whispered. "We were just working our way slowly towards each other."

"Perhaps you're right." He gently pulled away. "Ginger, you have to understand. The Skipper is like an older brother to me. And it's my duty to help."

She nodded. "That's one of the things I love about you, how honorable you are. I've never met a man like you before. Especially not in Hollywood."

He chuckled and then sighed again. "Ginger, if we are rescued, how am I going to fit into your world?"

"Maybe I'll be trying to fit into yours, going to lectures and symposiums."

"Symposia."

"You see?"

"I guess we'll cross that bridge, or those bridges, when we come to them. But for now, I've got to prepare to get to the other island."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"There's the raft Gilligan built for the wedding ceremony. The Wasabis' island is only a day's journey away. I think the raft can take me that far."

"What if there's another storm?"

"I'll take my rubbers." She arched her thin, red eyebrows and he almost blushed. "In the galoshes sense."

"Ah. There's another danger I hadn't thought of. What if one of the princesses decides she wants to marry you?"

"Why would she want me?"

"Come on, Roy, you're a very handsome man."

"Well, thank you, but I mean they prefer plump men on that island."

"Oh, right. Well, maybe they'll try to fatten you up."

"Ginger, even if I were as large as Jackie Gleason, I would never marry one of the native girls. Not when I'm in love with you."

"Oh, Roy!"

They kissed passionately again.

When they parted, she said, "We'd better go tell the Howells."

"About you and me?" Mr. Howell knew that they were fooling around and Mrs. Howell clearly suspected it, but he wasn't ready to tell them of his love for Ginger.

She laughed. "That can wait. I meant about the Skipper."

"Oh, yes, of course."

"Will you take a bottle and paper just in case we have to rescue you?"

He wasn't sure if she was kidding. He didn't know what a Hollywood actress and a wealthy couple could do against a tribe of hostile natives. Perhaps by "we" she meant them and their own rescuers. "Yes, I can do that."

"If the Skipper does want to leave and you go before we can get there, do you think the raft will be able to carry both of you?"

"I think so. It supported all of our weight when the seven of us held the wedding." That felt so long ago, although it wasn't of course. So much had happened since, and much more was going to happen.

"So it's one day there and one day back. And you'll probably have to stay a day or more. So that's at least three days away."

"At least."

"I really wish I knew what was happening with Gilligan and Mary Ann sending someone for us."

"It's only been a few hours since their arrival. And this isn't exactly an emergency where we need to be rescued right away. After all, it's been eight years, and none of us are injured or ill."

"True. I guess you might get back with the Skipper before they arrive."  
"It's possible. We'll just have to see how it goes."

"If you're not back in a week, will you write to me? Just to tell me you're all right."

"Yes, of course." It felt unreal to him that he had won the heart of Ginger Grant the movie star. But she was also his dear friend and he had seen her at her most vulnerable. Even though she was an actress, he could see the sincerity in her eyes. "After we tell the Howells, will you help me pack?"

She smiled. "Of course."


	5. Chapter 5

Gilligan hesitated and then answered the door. He didn't want to but the person kept knocking. He hoped it wasn't reporters.

There was a distinguished-looking man, in perhaps his late 40s, in a U.S. Coast Guard uniform. "Mr. Gilligan?"

"Uh, yes."

The man shook his hand. "I'm Commander Doyle."

"Nice to meet you. I'm William Gilligan, and this is my wife, Mary Ann."

She came over and Commander Doyle shook her hand, too.

"I'm sorry to disturb you two so soon after your rough voyage, but I'm afraid my office is being deluged with calls and telegrams, asking me to rescue your companions from that island."

"Oh, yes, of course," Mary Ann said. "We were hoping to contact you later today, but this will save us some time."

"Indeed. May I sit down?"

"Yes, Sir," Gilligan said, pulling out the chair from the desk.

The man took a notebook and a pen out of his pocket and said, "Now what exactly are the coordinates?"

Gilligan had to think a minute. "I remember the Professor saying it was 140° latitude and 10° longitude."

Doyle stared at him a moment and then said, "Mr. Gilligan, there is no 140° latitude. It only goes up to 90°. And if there were, that would put it somewhere in the Arctic Ocean."

"Oh, maybe it was the other way around."

"Then that places it roughly near Angola."

Mary Ann said, "I think the Skipper told Duke Williams that it was 110° longitude by 10° latitude."

"Who's Duke Williams?"

"It's not important," Gilligan said in annoyance.

"Well, 10 degrees North would be close to Vietnam, and I highly doubt your island would've stayed uncharted for very long, especially these past eight years. Ten degrees South would be, let's see, approximately where Christmas Island is."  
"Well, we did see Santa Claus."

"Gilligan," Mary Ann said quietly.

"We did. He looks just like the Skipper. Except with a beard."

"Look, if you want your friends rescued, you're going to have to take this seriously."

"Commander Doyle, we're very sorry. We don't know the exact coordinates, but it is 500 miles southeast of Hawaii."

"Two hundred," Gilligan corrected her. "Or was it 250?"

The man got to his feet. "I'm starting to wonder if you even are the missing people from _The Minnow_."

"We are!" Gilligan insisted. "Well, two of them anyway. And if you don't believe us, you can ask the Mosquitoes."  
"The mosquitoes?"

"They're a pop band," Mary Ann explained. "Well, maybe not so popular now. But they were big about seven or eight years ago."

"Yeah, they visited our island and left us an album." Gilligan decided not to mention that the Mosquitoes didn't bother to autograph it.

"They visited your island and they didn't tell anyone?"

"Well, no, they were afraid that the Honeybees—that's Mary Ann and the other two girls—would be too much competition."

"You're a pop singer?" Commander Doyle said, looking at Mary Ann dubiously.

"Well, no, not exactly. You see, Sir, people would visit our island, but for one reason or another, they would never tell anyone back home."

"I don't know what to believe. If you're not the two missing people, then I sure as heck would like to know what really happened to them."

"Well, just sit right back," Gilligan began.

The man got to his feet. "I'm sorry. I've got to go. If you can find anyone that can vouch for your identities, and if you can come up with a plausible location for the island, I'll pursue this. Otherwise, you're wasting the government's time, and mine."

"I'm sorry," Gilligan said.

"Then you have been lying?"

"No, I just feel bad that the truth sounds like a lie."

Commander Doyle shook his head but handed Gilligan his card. "Good day to you both."

"You, too. Thank you, Sir."

After the man left, closing the door behind him, Mary Ann asked, "Gilligan, why did you thank him?"  
"Well, he did give me his card. And he might help us later."

She sighed. "I suppose. And I guess it's not really his fault he didn't believe us. I'm not sure I would either."

"Yeah, but it's not our fault we don't know where the island is. It's uncharted. And the Skipper and the Professor had to guess where we were."

"Right. I wonder if we should contact some of the people who visited us on the island. The ones who didn't want to rescue us may've changed their minds by now. I mean, I doubt the Mosquitoes are even together anymore, so they can't feel threatened."

"Yeah, and some of the people wanted to help but couldn't, like Erika Tiffany Smith."

"Yes. " She sighed again. "I'm just afraid that this is all going to take some time, and meanwhile poor Ginger, the Professor, the Skipper, and the Howells are going to be waiting to be rescued. Especially if they heard on the radio about us making it to Hawaii."

"I wonder if we could find the island ourselves."

"In the canoe? What good would that do? We'd never be able to take them back with us."

"What if we got a bigger boat?"

"How? We don't have any money."  
"Oh, right." Now Gilligan sighed.

"Gilligan, I really should call my family. And then maybe we can go for a walk, enjoy the scenery."

"OK. But can we call room service first? I'm kinda hungry."  
She laughed, although he wasn't trying to be funny. "Go ahead."

"Do you want anything?"

"Well, could you have them send up a menu first? So we know what we can choose from, and what everything costs."

"Maybe it'll be included in our stay."

"Well, just in case."

"OK." He got on the phone and pressed the number for the reception desk. It felt weird not to dial but this was a "push-button" phone rather than a rotary.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

"Uh, could you send up a room service menu?"

"Of course, Sir, right away."

"Thank you."

He hung up. "Your turn."

She sighed and said, "I'd better reverse the charges."


	6. Chapter 6

"Hello, I'd like to place a collect call to George Summers in Winfield, Kansas." Mary Ann had decided that it would be best to speak to her uncle first, since he was less excitable than her mother and aunt.

"And whom is the party I'm speaking to?"

"Mary Ann Gilligan." Each time she said it, the more real her marriage felt, despite her mother-in-law's doubts.

"One moment please."

While she waited, someone knocked at the door. Gilligan went and answered it. It was a bellhop with the menu.

"Um, I'm sorry, I don't have any money for a tip." They hadn't had to have a bellhop earlier, since the Bradys had helped them carry everything up. And that meant everything. The canoe was now out on the balcony, drying in the sun.

"That's quite all right, Sir. Have a good day."  
"Thank you."

Then the ringing stopped and the operator said, "I have a collect call for George Summers from Mary Ann Gilligan."

"I don't know anyone by the name of Gilligan."

Mary Ann almost cried at the sound of her uncle's voice. "Uncle George, it's me!" She hoped he could hear her, but she didn't know if they were connected yet.

"Little Mary Ann? Why'd you change your last name?"

"Oh, George, I got married!"

"Married?!"

"Sir, I take it that this is a party you wish to speak to," said the operator.

"I sure do."  
"You're connected now, go ahead."

Mary Ann wasn't sure if the operator was going to stay on the line but she supposed it didn't really matter.

"Mary Ann Honey, where are you?"

"Honolulu."  
"Oh, I wish you'd told me before I accepted the charges."

"I'm sorry."  
Then she heard her uncle's booming laugh. She realized it reminded her a little of the Skipper. "Just joshing. So where have you been all these years?"

"Uncle George, you remember how I won that cruise on a ship?"

"Of course. And then there was that storm. But then what happened?" He clearly hadn't heard any news reports about her return, but then he'd probably been outside most of the day, working hard on the farm.

"It's a very long story, but we washed ashore on an uncharted tropical island."

"And you came back? Mary Ann, do you realize how many people would give their eyeteeth to end up on a tropical island? With no taxes to pay, and no work?"

"Well, there was some work."

He chuckled. "Yeah, if I know my girl, there was. I bet you were the hardest-working person on the island."

"Well, I don't know." She smiled at her husband, who was looking at the menu. "Gilligan worked pretty hard, too."  
"Now who in tarnation is Gilligan?"

"Well, he's a young man I met on the island."

"And you married him? Mary Ann, that seems a mite foolish. I realize you probably got lonely, all those years on the island. And there probably weren't too many men to choose from. And you probably thought you'd never get home. But I just hope you haven't done anything you'll regret."

"No, Uncle George, it wasn't like that." She felt embarrassed talking about this, especially in front of Gilligan. She understood better why Gilligan hadn't wanted to stay on the phone with his mother, although at least Uncle George wasn't questioning the validity of her marriage, yet.

"Now, Honey, I'm not saying anything against the boy. What's his first name?"

"William."

"That's a nice name. Gilligan is kind of a funny last name, but I guess he can't help that."

"Well, no. And he's a very nice person, so sweet."  
"Uh huh. What kind of job does he have?"

"Well, he was the first mate on the ship."

"You mean to tell me you got yourself tied up with one of those morons who got you shipwrecked?"

"He's not a—Anyway, it wasn't their fault. The storm warning for the previous day was issued by mistake. They were cleared of all charges."

"Well, whosever fault it was, your poor aunt has spent the last eight years thinking you were dead."

"But you didn't?"

"Well, no," he said quietly. "I felt like I would have a feeling if anything really bad had happened to you."

"And what about Mom? Was she worried, too, or did she have faith like you did?"

He didn't answer at first.

"Uncle George?"

"Oh, Sweetie, I didn't want to tell you like this, on the phone."  
A chill went up her spine. "Uncle George, what is it?"

"Your mother died seven years ago."

She couldn't say anything. This couldn't be happening. Wouldn't she have had the same sort of feeling if something bad had happened to her mother?

"Mary Ann, you still there?"  
"Yes, I, I'm sort of in shock."

"I know, it's awful news to come home to. But if it's any comfort, she died in her sleep."

"What did she die of?"  
"Well, I guess you could say she died of grief. After losing your father and then thinking she lost you, well. It was too much of a strain."

"I see."

"Mary Ann, when are you coming home?"

"I, I don't know. Our plans are uncertain. I'll try to visit as soon as I can."

"Visit? You mean, you don't want to live with—Well, I understand. You're married now."  
"Yes. Uncle George, I need to go. Can you call me tomorrow, when Martha's home?"

"Well, she'll be home from the rummage sale in about half an hour. And she'll hate to have missed your call."  
"I need some time to think about all this."  
"I understand. You take care of yourself, Little Girl."

"I will. Thank you, Uncle George."  
"Of course, Pumpkin." He hadn't called her that since she was eight.

"Goodbye." She hung up suddenly. Then she burst into tears.

A moment later, she felt Gilligan's long, warm arms wrap around her.


	7. Chapter 7

It was a beautiful day, clear and sunny, like on their island. But they weren't on their island anymore. They were back in "the real world," even if the Bradys and other tourists saw this as a tropical paradise. For Gilligan and Mary Ann, it was their reintroduction to the world of money and death.

"I know it's silly to be sad," Mary Ann said. Her sobs had subsided to sniffles. "I know she died seven years ago. But I didn't know that at the time. I didn't know I'd never really get to say goodbye to her."

"It's not silly."  
She squeezed his hand. "Thank you. Also, well, I feel like it's my fault. If she hadn't thought I was dead, then she wouldn't have died."  
"It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. It's just how things happened."

"Maybe."

He wished he could comfort her, but he understood that she had to grieve, even if it was seven years late.

"I'm glad you're here, Gilligan." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Maybe it was enough to be there. He hoped so.

They started walking along the beach again, trying to enjoy the scenery. It was sad to think that Mary Ann's mother had never gotten to travel much, living her whole life in Kansas. Yet, from what Mary Ann said, it sounded like her mother's life had mostly been a busy and happy one.

"I wish you could've met her, Gilligan."  
"Me, too." He'd like to thank her for raising such a wonderful daughter. Although he supposed Mary Ann's aunt and uncle deserved some of the credit. "Uh, when do you think we should visit our families?"

She sighed. "In a way, I'd like to go back to Kansas right away, to see George and Martha, and to see my mother's grave. But on the other hand, they've waited this long. Also, we do have a responsibility to the Skipper and everybody."

"Yeah. If two of them had made it to Hawaii, I know they'd be trying really hard to rescue us."

"Of course." She sighed again. "When we get back to the hotel, let's make a list of everyone we remember visiting the island. Well, except for the natives."

"OK." He wasn't sure what they would do after that. Would they have to hire a detective? Where would they get the money to pay for that? Or maybe they could just give Commander Doyle the list and have the Coast Guard contact everyone.

She was about to say something else, but suddenly a crowd of people rushed at them. And they all had cameras or notepads. The crowd started shouting their names. For a moment, Gilligan felt like a movie star surrounded by fans, and then he realized that these were reporters.

They yelled out questions about the voyage and the island and even about Gilligan and Mary Ann's marriage. He wanted to run and hide. It wasn't just an attack of shyness, although that was part of it. He hated them bothering poor Mary Ann when she was grieving for her mother. He put his arm protectively around her.

And then a voice rang out. "Ladies and gentlemen of the press, please restrain yourselves!" Gilligan looked around and saw the hotel manager pushing his way through the crowd. "Mr. and Mrs. Gilligan will be happy to answer your questions, one at a time, at five o'clock this evening, in the Aloha Room at the Honolulu Paradise Resort. In the meantime, I ask that you please give them the peace and quiet they deserve."

The reporters left, grumbling good-naturedly, but it sounded like they would return that evening.

Mary Ann waited till they were all gone before she said, "Mr. Pomeroy, you had no right to promise that on our behalf. If Gilligan and I want to hold a press conference, we'll schedule it ourselves."

"Dear Lady, I understand your feelings, believe me I do. But this is a very hot news item and it's best that you let them interview you, en masse, as soon as possible. Otherwise, they're bound to make something up."

She looked like she wanted to argue further, so Gilligan said, "I can go. You don't have to, Mary Ann."

"No, it's all right, Gilligan. Mr. Pomeroy, we do appreciate all you've done for us, and I guess this is one way to repay it."

"Let me know if there's anything else we can do."  
"Does the hotel provide laundry service?"

"Oh, of course, I should've realized before. After your long, unpleasant trip in a canoe. I'll send up a laundry basket and you can fill it with your items of clothing. I'll have the maids take care of it."

"Thank you."

"Excuse me, I've got to get back to the hotel." He strode across the white sand in his black wing-tips.

"Well, I guess we're holding a press conference," she said.

Gilligan nodded. "Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe Bingo, Bango, Bongo, Irving, and everyone will see us and contact us."

"That would help."

"So what do you want to do now?" He guessed she probably wouldn't want to go back to their room and fool around. She would probably be too sad for awhile for that. He hoped he could at least hug and kiss her, not just for the fun of it, but to comfort her.

"Well, I'd like to find a church or a chapel. Someplace I can pray for my mother."

"Oh, OK. Um, what denomination?" He suddenly realized that there were some things they didn't know about each other.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. The important thing is I need someplace quiet and sacred."

"That makes sense." He felt like God was everywhere, especially on that gorgeous beach, but it wasn't exactly quiet. Then he thought of something. "Um, we don't have any money for a cab, or even a bus. Unless we borrow some from Mr. Pomeroy or the Bradys."

"Let's see if there's one in walking distance."

He nodded. They had both always been good walkers, even before they went to their island, and he wouldn't mind even a long walk, as long as it was with her, especially on such a beautiful day.


	8. Chapter 8

"So there was no phone, no lights, no motor cars?"

"Not a single luxury?"

"Well, sort of," Gilligan answered.

"Sort of?

"You see," Mary Ann explained, "the Howells were with us and they brought along a lot of their belongings."

"For a three-hour tour?"

"I think they were on their way to someplace else. This was sort of a spur of the moment trip for them," Gilligan said. "They had their chauffeur leave the motor running."  
"For three or more hours?"

Gilligan shrugged. "Well, they are really rich."

"Are you talking about Thurston Howell III and his wife Eunice Wenthworth Howell?"

"Yeah."

"But Thurston Howell showed up six years ago!"

"That's right!" shouted another reporter. "He said he was the only survivor of _The S.S. Minnow_. And then later he fell off another boat and was never seen again."

"That was an impostor," Mary Ann said.

"Oh, really?" This reporter sounded very skeptical, although Mary Ann couldn't entirely blame him. "And you know this how?"

"Well," Gilligan explained, "we were on the island with the real Mr. Howell and then the fake Mr. Howell showed up."

"Uh huh. And then what happened?"

"Well, he swam away." Even as she said it, Mary Ann knew how implausible it all sounded.

Then an older reporter said, "Wait, I remember that story. And what happened was they compared his signature to the earlier signatures for Mr. Howell, and they didn't match. And then later a fishing boat picked up the impostor and he was arrested."

"Oh, that's right," Gilligan said. "It's hard to keep track of all that."

Another reporter now spoke up. "So it was you two, the Howells, and three other people, right? And one of them was Ginger Grant, the actress, right?"

"That's right."

"How do we know this isn't all some publicity scheme by her studio? Or her agent?"

Mary Ann tried not to get indignant on Ginger's behalf. As calmly as she could, she said, "I don't think they would've waited eight years."

"Yeah, that whole sex kitten, Ann-Margret meets Marilyn Monroe thing is way out of date," said another reporter.

Mary Ann hated to hear them talk that way about her best friend. Yes, there was that side to Ginger, but Mary Ann knew how talented and versatile Ginger was, how she could even imitate Sophia Loren. This coming on top of the news about her mother was too much to bear.

Then Gilligan stretched and gave a big yawn. The reporters laughed. Gilligan smiled in that adorable, apologetic way he had.

Mr. Pomeroy stepped in. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Press, I'm afraid this has been a very long day for our two castaways. Perhaps this is as good a time as any to adjourn the press conference."

"Just a few pictures, Mr. Pomeroy!" a photographer called out.

Mr. Pomeroy looked at Mary Ann and Gilligan and they nodded. She wasn't crazy about having her picture taken but it was better than being asked all these questions and having assumptions made about her and her friends. She couldn't help thinking that Ginger would've handled the press conference much better than she had. Or Mr. and Mrs. Howell. They were all used to publicity and attention. Even the Skipper probably would've done fine, with his easy-going manner that put people at ease. (Yes, he had a temper, especially with Gilligan, but he was generally warm and affable.)

She and Gilligan posed, separately and together, till the flashbulbs had almost blinded them. And there were news cameras, too, filming everything. She was glad she hadn't exploded in rage, tempting though it had been.

It was a relief when they were back in their room. It was wonderful to have peace and quiet again, to be alone together.

Then Gilligan said, "Can we order room service now?"

She laughed, although she felt guilty. They'd had no breakfast because they'd woken up on the beach and then gone to the hotel. They napped and would've ordered lunch, except that she got the news about her mother. And then after that, they were thinking about all their worries, including the press conference. They still had many problems to deal with, but at least they'd met with the press now and could move on.

"Yes, of course. May I see the menu?"

"Here." He handed it over.

She thought of what the Skipper had once said he'd do if they were rescued, which at that point had seemed not too far off, "I'll go straight to an Italian restaurant and have eight or ten pizzas, six dozen meatballs, and two miles of spaghetti, and then I'll have dinner." Other times he'd imagined a thick juicy steak.

She wasn't that hungry, but spaghetti and meatballs sounded good, and they were on the menu. She'd done her best to make pasta noodles on the island, using the grain that they had, but it never tasted quite right. And certainly they never had the beef she needed for meatballs. If they were lucky, the men would capture a wild boar, and they could have sausage with noodles. It was strange to think that she no longer had to depend on her own hard work, or the hard work of the men, to feed herself.

She smiled at Gilligan. "Do you know what you want?" She thought of how in the canoe he'd talked about all the junk food he missed. She half expected him to order a cheeseburger and french fries.

"Yeah, a lobster."

She laughed. "A lobster?" That was the last thing she was expecting. "Didn't you get enough seafood on the island?"

"Yeah, but you remember how hard lobsters are to catch. And one time I had lobster traps, but it made the Professor think the island was sinking."

She remembered that. It was another of their experiences that she could imagine the reporters mocking. She could see how to an outsider, their adventures on the island would seem ridiculous, although sometimes the events were dramatic or even tragic.

Gilligan continued, "Just imagine how great it'll be to just pick up the phone and order a lobster, without having to catch it, or cook it."

"I was just thinking the same thing. Except I'm going to have spaghetti and meatballs."  
"Mmm, that's sounds good, too."

She laughed. "Well, we can share."

"OK."

She went over to where he was sitting and kissed him. To her surprise, he pulled her into his lap. "Aren't you worried about your knees?" she teased, remembering the kissing session they had to make Duke Williams jealous.

"I'm not really thinking about my knees right now."

They kissed again and kept kissing until they realized they should probably order dinner.


	9. Chapter 9

It felt very nice to hold and kiss Mary Ann, but she was right that they should have dinner. He felt like he had two big appetites, and he didn't know which one to feed. But it made sense to eat first, so that they could focus on each other afterwards. Even if they just kissed, he wanted to take his time with it. And they hadn't had a real, cooked meal since they left the island.

After they ordered, they watched a little TV. It was amazing how everything was in color now. Even real life seemed more colorful, the clothes and furniture and wallpaper, although that may've just been because they were in Hawaii. Mary Ann and Ginger would sometimes try to update their wardrobes, based on radio fashion reports, as well as magazines that washed ashore, but it was mostly guesswork. Gilligan was comfortable in his red shirts and his jeans, and he saw no reason to dress like Mr. Brady and the other men did.

Gilligan found himself changing the station again and again, wanting to see everything at once: game shows and cartoons, soap operas and documentaries, and even shows that had been new eight years ago, now running in syndication. When six o'clock came, the three networks switched to the news. And he and Mary Ann were the top story!

"...Are the two who they claim to be? William Gilligan was an obscure first mate on a small tour-boat, while Mary Ann Summers was a farm girl. Certainly, they would be easier to impersonate than Mr. and Mrs. Howell, or B-movie actress Ginger Grant."

"Oh, poor Ginger!" Mary Ann groaned.

Gilligan changed the channel quickly.

"...Unlikely that a simple two-man canoe could've survived three days of a fierce storm, to say nothing of the very small chance that it would land in one piece on a Honolulu beach."

Gilligan shook his head and switched to another station.

"...They claim to be married, but there was no minister or anyone qualified to perform marriages on the island."

Gilligan turned the TV off.

"Oh, Gilligan!" Mary Ann looked like she was going to cry again.

The press conference had been bad enough. But their lives were being twisted further by the media.

"I thought everyone would treat us like heroes," Gilligan said quietly. "We did something amazing. OK, we didn't paddle the whole way, but we did for about two weeks. And we survived that storm. I think we were pretty brave, even when we got scared."

She nodded. "I didn't necessarily expect a ticker tape parade, but I didn't expect all this hostility and disbelief."

He came over and joined her, sitting on the edge of the bed. He took her hand. "I'm sorry our homecoming has been so disappointing. Especially for you."

"Well, I guess that's just how reporters are. And we are lucky, aren't we, to have survived the storm? This is just another storm, and it'll die down after awhile."

"I hope so."

Then someone knocked. Gilligan hoped it was room service, or at least not a reporter. He went to the door. Room service, good. But he still felt bad that he had no money for a tip.

There was a little table in the room, so they ate at that. It was strange to think that the last table they'd eaten at was one that he and the Skipper had built out of scraps of wood.

"I wonder how the others are doing," Mary Ann said after a bite.

He could picture the five of them sitting around that table, maybe listening to the radio for news of the two of them. He hoped that the radio reporters were nicer than the ones on TV.

He shrugged and tried to concentrate on his food. The lobster was very good, but messy. Mary Ann's spaghetti was messy, too. After awhile they looked at each other and laughed.

"Good thing this isn't a first date," she said.

"Yeah," he said, wiping his face with a napkin.

"I sort of wish we'd had dates on the island," she said, sounding wistful.

"But we couldn't have gone to the movies or a soda shop or anything."

"Well, no, but we could've gone on picnics I suppose."

"That would've been nice." He didn't say that he would've been too shy to ask her out. What if she'd said no? Or what if they'd dated and it hadn't worked out? Either way, they'd be stuck on the island, having to see each other every day. It'd be worse than high school, with a few hundred less people around. Besides, it would've been bad for his condition, and she might not have been able to help him with it, since they weren't married then. "Mary Ann, do you think of us as married?"

She blushed a little. "Yes. We went through the ceremony with good intentions, whether or not it was legal. I mean, I think of it as legal in our little community. Just like if we'd married in another country before returning to America."

"Yeah, me, too."

"But it does feel like this has all happened in a funny order."

"Yeah. Um."

"What, Gilligan?"

He blushed a little. "Can we do stuff tonight?"

"Stuff?"

He blushed more. "Naked stuff."

Now she blushed. "Oh."

"I mean, I know you're very sad about your mother dying, and if you don't want to do anything for awhile, I understand. But I really do love you, Mary Ann, and I think it might cheer you up."

For some reason she looked amused. "Well, thank you."

"I mean, it's a lot of fun, but it's also a way to show we love each other, right?"

"Right." She sighed. "I don't know if I want to do everything tonight, but I would at least like to kiss and cuddle."

"Great! And it should be a lot more comfortable in the bed than in the canoe."

"I certainly hope so."

Then they went back to eating.


	10. Chapter 10

After they were done eating, Mary Ann put the dishes out into the hallway, thinking of how she and Ginger wouldn't have to wash them. Then she went into the bathroom to freshen up and change into Eva Grubb's nightgown. She really did wish she had something slinkier to put on. Sad as she was about her mother, she still wanted to look pretty and, well, sexy for Gilligan.

When she went back out into the bedroom, Gilligan had changed into Mr. Brady's spare pajamas. He'd also dimmed the lights and put on mood music. She was surprised for a moment, but then she remembered that he had seen a lot of movies. He probably knew a little of how to create a romantic setting. And then she realized that, unless they'd borrowed the community radio, there would've been no way to do this on the island. Even dimming the lights wasn't a possibility.

"It's wonderful to have electricity again, isn't it?" she said, glancing at the clock radio.

He nodded, but he seemed to be staring at her.

"I know, this nightgown is awful, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "You're still the most beautiful girl in the world."

"Oh, Gilligan." She came over and sat next to him on the edge of the bed. She kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He kissed her on the mouth, a gentle, tentative kiss.

She felt so lucky to have a husband like him, warm and sensitive. Yes, he was shy and naive, more than she was, but she was more comfortable with that, especially with all the mixed emotions she was going through that day, than she would've been with a more confident, assertive man.

"Let's lie down and snuggle," she said.

"OK."

They folded back the covers, not that they really needed them in that warm climate. She thought about how their room was heated and cooled by electricity. On the island, sometimes the wind would blow through the gaps in the bamboo of the huts. She'd gotten used to it, and it was better shelter than the canoe of course, but it was only now that she had four walls around her, not to mention a floor that wasn't made of dirt, that she truly realized how un-luxuriously they'd lived. And this wasn't even a fancy hotel. She pictured having a nice, modest house with Gilligan, and how that would feel like wealth after what she'd grown accustomed to.

They lay down as they had on the canoe, with him to her left. She supposed that meant they really were a couple now, each having a side of the bed, even if they hadn't shared an actual bed till that day.

"How do you feel?" Gilligan asked.

She sighed. "I don't know. A mix of things. This is all a lot to adjust to."

"Yeah." He kissed her cheek.

"Gilligan, can you hold me?"

"What if I get excited?"

"That's OK. I'll at least play with you with my hands." She didn't know if she was ready to have him inside her again, but she liked giving him pleasure.

"Wow, you're the best wife a guy ever had!"

She smiled. "Oh, I don't know about that."

"Well, I think you are." He wrapped his arms around her and she snuggled up against him.

"You're the best husband any girl could ever have," she murmured.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

And then they kissed, a long, slow kiss. After awhile, they both became more relaxed and yet more excited. They progressed to necking. It was definitely more comfortable than it had been in the canoe, and she couldn't help thinking about how other things would be more comfortable, too.

"Gilligan, I think I would like to do what we did last night."  
"Really? I don't want to rush you."

"Well, let's build up to it, but, yes, let's do it tonight."

"What about your mother?"

"I'm still sad about her, but she would want me to be happy."

"I want to make you happy, Mary Ann."

"Oh, Gilligan." She kissed him again. "What about your mother?"

"What about her?"

"Well, she doesn't think of us as married."

"Well, I told you I do think of us as married. And I'm an adult now. For eight years, my parents didn't know if I was dead or alive, and I had to make decisions and live my life the way that made sense to me. Of course, I always listened to my friends' advice, especially the Skipper's. But I never really went along with anything I didn't want to do. Like, I could've told Mrs. Howell she was crazy and I didn't want to marry you. But deep down, I did. I just thought you'd say no if I even asked you on a date, not that we could really date on the island."

She stroked his chest. "Oh, Gilligan, couldn't you see how much I cared for you?"

"Well, sometimes I wondered, but mostly I thought you were being nice and sweet. I didn't know you could think of me as a boyfriend, or a husband."

"Well, I could. I do." She kissed him again. "I thought you were the one who wasn't interested in romance."

"Oh, I was interested. But my condition scared me. I didn't know it was normal."

"Oh, Gilligan." She kissed him some more. Then she sat up and pulled off the long nightgown.

"Oh, Mary Ann!"

She lay down again and started unbuttoning his pajama top. It felt good to press their chests together, feel bare skin against bare skin, as they kissed and necked.

He soon got hard of course, well, harder, but he was patient. It seemed like any touch made him happy, even if he was getting frustrated. She showed him how she wanted to be kissed and touched, and she kissed and touched him. She did ask him for instructions, but he said, "It's all great!"

Eventually they were down to just their underpants. She took hers off and gave him more instructions, which he happily followed. When she felt ready, she had him take off his underwear and climb on top of her. She helped position him and he entered her carefully.

"Oh, Mary Ann, it's even better than last time!"

It was. She was more relaxed and definitely more comfortable. Gilligan still seemed to not quite know what he was doing, which was understandable, but at least he seemed less surprised than before.

But he gave only a few strokes and thrusts before he was done. "Wow!" he exclaimed.

She wished he could last longer. Would it always be like this or would he get better the longer they were together as a couple? She was too inexperienced herself to know how to increase his stamina. In fact, she felt lucky he'd lasted long enough to get inside her. And she realized that he didn't know that it could be any different. He still seemed to barely know what sex was.

She didn't love him any less. She held him close as he lay on her afterwards. The important thing was that they were together. And he had pleased her earlier. And this was still their honeymoon after all.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hey, where are you guys going?"

Greg looked at his brothers. "Should we tell him?"

"Well, he does know about tikis," Peter said.

"And I don't think he'll squeal on us," Bobby said.

Gilligan was out for a walk after breakfast. He and Mary Ann had fooled around a little before breakfast, then they showered and ordered room service. They were going to start making the list of people who had visited the island, but Mrs. Brady had dropped by and invited Mary Ann to go shopping. When Mary Ann had explained, with blushes, that she didn't have any money, Mrs. Brady said that Mary Ann could pay her back, and half the fun of shopping was looking at things.

Gilligan had urged Mary Ann to go, hoping it would distract her from her worries.

"What about you, Gilligan?"

"Oh, I'll find stuff to do. Maybe I'll sightsee."

So Mary Ann had reluctantly agreed and set out with Mrs. Brady. Then Gilligan realized he didn't really know what he wanted to do. It wasn't that he was incapable of amusing himself. He'd always found plenty to do on his island, even if sometimes it was things that the Skipper thought of as being lazy. But he felt funny being on his own in Honolulu, with no particular place to go or thing to do.

He did consider starting on the list of island visitors, but Mary Ann had a better memory than he did, so he decided to wait on that. He thought about watching TV, but it looked like such a nice day that he thought he should get outside and see things.

He saw the Brady boys standing at the bus stop near the hotel. He wondered if they were sightseeing. Maybe he could tag along, although he would have to borrow bus fare. But now it sounded like they were up to something.

They told him about Bobby's little tiki statue, which he'd found at the site of the building their father the architect had designed. Mr. Brady's boss had generously offered to pay for the whole family, including their maid (it turned out Alice wasn't their aunt) to vacation in Hawaii. They were all having a great time, except that the tiki seemed to be bringing them a lot of bad luck. Greg had wiped out surfing (although this was also the same day that the storm had started, so Gilligan wondered if that had something to do with it), a tarantula had scared Peter, a wall hanging had almost hit Bobby, and Alice had thrown out her back while hula-dancing.

"I was skeptical at first," Greg said, "but this is way too much bad luck at once."

Gilligan thought of how Mary Ann had had some mysterious curse before they set out in the canoe, a curse that it seemed like Ginger had removed. Gilligan hadn't made up his mind if the storm was good or bad. They could've died, but they didn't, and it did take them to Hawaii, although that wasn't working out as well as they'd hoped.

"We talked to this old Hawaiian man, Mr. Hanalei," Peter said. "And he told us that we need to return the statue to the burial place of the ancient kings."

"Like a graveyard?"

"No, it's these old caves," Bobby said. "So we're going there now. Wanna come with us?"

Gilligan thought it sounded exactly like the kind of place he would've tried to avoid on his island. But he didn't want these kids to know he was chicken. "Uh, well, I don't have any bus fare."

"We can treat you," Bobby offered.

"Yeah, maybe you should come with us," Peter said. "It might help to have an adult along, in case we run into any trouble."

"I can handle it," Greg said defensively. He was about 16 and probably thought of himself as the grown-up, responsible brother.

"I bet Mr. Gilligan has met lots of natives and knows about headhunters and stuff," Bobby said.

"Well, yeah," Gilligan admitted.

"Gee, that's swell!" said Peter. "You can tell us all about it on the bus."  
The bus pulled up just then.

"OK, fine, if you want to go with us, here," said Greg, handing Gilligan some change.

It seemed easiest to just go with them. And along the way, he told them about the natives he'd met and all the Skipper's superstitions.

"OK," Greg said, "I can see why you didn't want to marry that one native girl. She sounds, well, not nearly as pretty as Mary Ann, but how could you pass up the chance to have a beautiful slave girl?"

"I don't like telling anyone what to do."

Greg shook his head like he thought Gilligan was crazy. Then Peter said, "Is Ginger Grant the movie star really on your island?"

"Yeah."  
"Is she still as beautiful as she is on the late, late show?"

"Yeah, she used to be as gorgeous as Raquel Welch," Greg said.

"I guess. I mean, I haven't seen her movies in a long time. But she is beautiful. Not as beautiful as Mary Ann."

Greg and Peter smiled at each other. Then Bobby said, "Girls are boring."

"Just wait a few years, Bobby," Greg said, still looking amused.

Gilligan wondered what they'd all say if they knew how often Ginger had kissed him. He'd always liked Mary Ann's kisses better, but it wouldn't sound that impressive to say you'd been kissed by your future wife, as opposed to being kissed by a movie star. But he thought of all that as private, and he especially didn't want to tell kids about it. Greg and Peter weren't as innocent as he'd been at their ages, but they were still teenagers, and Bobby was just a little boy.

Gilligan suddenly wondered what it'd be like to have sons of his own. He was about eighteen when Bobby was born, so not quite old enough to be his father. But he could sort of imagine it. He wondered if Mary Ann wanted kids. Probably, she was pretty old-fashioned. She would be a very sweet mother. Gilligan didn't know what kind of father he'd be. He did know he would try to talk to his kids more than his parents had. The Brady parents, from the little Gilligan had observed of them, seemed kind but firm.

"Hey, do your folks know about this trip to the caves?"

The brothers exchanged glances, and then Greg said, "Well, no. We told them we're going sightseeing."

"They think this is just silly superstition," Peter said.

"We'll be back before they have time to worry," Bobby said. "Want some popcorn?" He held out a small box.

"Uh, yeah, thanks." Gilligan hoped Mr. and Mrs. Brady wouldn't blame him for not trying to stop their sons. This was one time when it may've been a bad idea to just go along with someone.


End file.
